


Small Things

by vaguelyobscene



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - College/University, Derek Hale Saves The Day, Everyone Is Alive, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sterek Week 2017, Stiles has no filter, and a fear of heights, and kittens!, men with cats is my favorite thing honestly, sterekmeetcute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 08:37:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12527356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaguelyobscene/pseuds/vaguelyobscene
Summary: Pure schmoop about Stiles trying to get a kitten out of a tree, nearly breaking his neck, and being saved by our favorite Sourwolf. Turns out, he's kind of a cat guy.





	Small Things

**Author's Note:**

> I needed a break from the other thing I'm writing so I took time off to do some nice, cleansing fluff for Sterek Week. Inspired by [this post](https://i.imgur.com/QTsf1Yl.jpg) my friend put up which gave me such joy.

“At this point I think you’re just _trying_ to break my heart,” Stiles sighed as another plaintive mewl drifted down towards him. The frustration went bone deep and he almost wanted to cry as much as the too-curious black kitten that had gotten stuck in high branches. He paced underneath the offensively tall bit of nature and texted Scott for the third time but received no response from the supposed animal lover. Figures. If he wasn't currently halfway up Allison’s skirt, then he was likely busy with more of that torturous pledge crap. He really did not see the appeal of fraternities but his best friend seemed incredibly eager to join their polo-shirt-wearing, beer-guzzling, frisbee-lobbing ranks.

Stiles was torn between bitter amusement and righteous disbelief that he was the only person on campus who seemed to give a shit about the miserable furball. Admittedly even he had tried going on with his day at first, assuming the cat would figure out how to get itself down, but the poor thing was still there when he passed by the same tree a few hours later. Now that he no longer had any classes to be in, Stiles couldn't bring himself to walk away from the helpless animal again.

At first he’d tried talking the cat down — because that was his solution to every problem — but no amount of soothing or coaxing could get her to do more than shuffle back and forth along the high branch she perched on. His feline friend was listening though, green eyes locked on Stiles as he rambled about all the cans of tuna and ear scratches that were waiting if she just came down here. He could almost feel how badly the kitten wanted that but it hadn't worked up the courage to do more than eye the lower branches and reach out a tentative paw.

When he suddenly remembered the other half of a turkey sandwich in his backpack, he spent a good five minutes looking like an extra-crazy person, standing on his tiptoes and waving a sandwich at a tree while making kissy noises. Even that wasn't enough to tempt the furball into a descent and Stiles sighed heavily as the cat peered down with eyes that he swear had gotten bigger and more pathetic in the last few minutes.

“You’re really gonna make me come up there, aren't you?” he asked, unable to hide the note of resentment. The kitten meowed innocently and Stiles tried to glare but couldn't keep it up.

“This is the dumbest thing I've done in god knows how long and all because I'm a friggin’ sucker for a pair of green eyes,” Stiles grumbled to himself as he dropped his pack at the base of the tree and circled it cautiously, looking for a feasible path. “I swear to god, I'm gonna kill Scotty for not answering me. He could've done this with no problem because unlike me, he isn't afraid of heights. Sometimes I get nauseous at the top of _stairs_ , for crying out loud! This is so not okay.”

And yet here he was, grabbing a low branch and pulling himself up while converse shoes scrabbled against rough bark and gave him the leverage necessary to get off the ground. It was a task accomplished with difficulty because climbing trees was not a thing he’d done since he was a fearless little kid, and like everything else in life this was a lot harder now that he was an adult.

 _Just don't look down_ , Stiles told himself. _You’ll be fine if you don't look down._

He kept his gaze fixed determinedly on the prize, reaching out for branches that looked sturdy enough to hold his weight before hauling himself further up this leafy deathtrap. It was slow going because Stiles was being extra careful and he paused at intervals to calm his near-panicked breathing, praying to whatever divine force might be listening. Surely some deity was in charge of watching out for gangly 18-year-olds with severe acrophobia and a weakness for fluffy things.

The ascent was going reasonably well until he was within arm’s reach of the kitten and his brain helpfully reminded Stiles that at some point he’d need to look down to get them out of there. The quick glance downward was reflexive but more than enough to totally screw him. Time seemed to screech to a halt and speed up all at once, which was a disorienting sensation that was not helped by the way his stomach pitched and rolled. Bile rose in the back of his throat and suddenly it looked like _miles_ to the ground and man, were his hands always this sweaty and cold and _numb_? What a weird feeling.

Black began to crowd into the edges of his vision even as white noise roared in his ears and something heavy squeezed his chest like it was a stress ball. Stiles was too paralyzed to stop it when his balance faltered and he tipped backwards, feet slipping and unresponsive hands not able to keep hold of the branch. Every falling nightmare that left him gasping awake in clammy sheets was suddenly coming to life and if his heart had enough time, it might have exploded in fear during the plummet.

As it was he didn't have that far to fall so Stiles only had a moment to squeeze his eyes shut and brace for the inevitable pain of impact…

Except it didn't hurt, even though he crashed into something rather solid. It took his adrenaline-flooded brain a few beats to process the fact that he’d landed all wrong because instead of being in a heap on the ground, he was still sorta suspended — what the hell?

Eyes flew open, wondering gaze traveling across a broad chest in a tight grey tee, up to a square jaw covered in some impressive stubble (coming from someone who couldn't grow facial hair to save his life), and features that were so beautifully sculpted it was unfair to the rest of humanity. Even that supremely judgemental pair of brows couldn't detract from the incredible green eyes they were drawn down over. That face easily fell into the golden ratio of beauty. Hell, the dude was so perfect that he probably _broke_ the fucking ratio because he’d definitely broken Stiles’ brain.

“Holy Clark Kent,” he gasped thoughtlessly because his rescuer had some serious, Man-of-Steel level bulk going on, though he was sadly missing the sexy nerd glasses.

Judgey brows shot towards his hairline but thankfully he just huffed out a little laugh before protesting, “I'm hardly Superman.”

“I mean, you caught me when I was falling to my potential death so that at least makes you _my_ hero.” As soon as it left his mouth, Stiles wished he actually had hit the ground so he could be unconscious. That would be preferable to the intense flood of embarrassment he was currently feeling. It was literally the worst line ever and he wasn't even trying to flirt. But the breathless way the words came out, combined with his unmistakable blush, made it impossible to sound like anything else.

Somebody up there finally took pity on him because the gorgeous guy actually smiled and it was both blindingly bright and friggin’ adorable. Those little bunny teeth were possibly the most attractive thing he’d ever seen. Smitten did not even begin to cover it.

“How are you even real?” Stiles wondered before his brain-to-mouth filter could temper the appreciative thought. “We should revisit that alien theory. They seriously cannot make a smile that beautiful on earth.”

“Did you hit your head on the way down?”

“Huh? Me? No, I don't think so.”

“You sure about that? I’m sensing a little brain damage.”

From the way that painfully cute grin grew wider Stiles realized the other guy was teasing him, though it was hardly reassuring. He didn't think it was possible to be any redder but from the heat spreading up his neck, he was positive his face was making an effort to create a brand new shade of blotchy crimson. If this guy were a reasonable level of attractive maybe Stiles would’ve had a witty rejoinder but for now all he could manage was a mumble that he was fine.

“So this is just you on a daily basis? Good to know,” the stubbled superhero replied with another arch of those expressive brows. Despite the wry tone he didn't seem to be anything more than amused and somewhat intrigued or even, dare Stiles think it, _charmed_.

He had to hide his disappointment when the chivalrous Clark Kent shifted Stiles’ weight and began to set him back onto his feet. Despite the mildly humiliating aspect of being in a bridal carry, he couldn't help mourning the loss of strong arms that were so effortlessly able to hold him. It was sweet that he kept a steadying hand on the freshman’s bicep though, and Stiles actually had to make an effort not to lean into the grounding touch.

“Stiles!” he blurted out inelegantly. When that just got a confused look, he gestured to the much-less-impressive whole of himself and said, “I'm-uh, I’m Stiles. And yeah, my foot kinda lives in my mouth. Hi. Also, thanks.”

“Derek,” the upperclassman offered and Stiles’ knees almost went weak at the return of his full smile, bunny teeth and all. “What the hell were you doing up there anyway?”

He winced — they should take his would-be pet owner card away because he’d instantly forgotten the kitten when faced with perfection in a pair of tight jeans. “Uhh, depends on how much you're gonna judge me for the truth… Are you a dog person or a cat person?”

Taken aback by the seemingly incongruous question, Derek gave him a searching look before shrugging and replying, “Both? I’m pretty equal opportunity.”

Trying not to focus on the other aspects of Derek’s life where he might be equal opportunity and failing miserably as hope flared in his chest, Stiles beamed at him. “Excellent answer! You’ve earned the full idiot rundown.”

He pointed upwards to the ball of black fur high in green leaves and explained how he’d noticed the cat early that morning on his way to class, how it was _still_ miserably stuck hours later and he couldn't just leave it alone. Climbing up to get it was clearly a terrible idea since heights were his kryptonite but really, where does one get a ladder at this time of day? In his usual fashion, Stiles gave too many details and told the story with enthusiastic sweeps of his hands to illustrate so by the time he finished, Derek was gaping at him.

“Hold on, wait. You have acrophobia and essentially risked your life to climb a tree and ‘save’ a cat that’s not even yours?” His tone said he agreed with Stiles’ earlier self-assessment of being an idiot.

Shrugging and looking suitably chagrined, Stiles replied, “I mean, it’ll be mine if I ever get her down. I wasn’t just gonna release her into the wild after all this.”

Derek now wore an expression that he was very familiar with because he saw it so often; it usually meant the person didn’t know whether to laugh at Stiles or smack him upside the head. “You know the cat would've been fine if you left it alone. Even if it fell out, they always land on their feet.”

Tilting his chin up defiantly Stiles argued, “Yeah but even with that reflex, which isn't fully developed until seven weeks by the way, cats are more likely to be injured by short falls. There isn't enough time to right themselves. Crazy as it sounds, they would actually be safer dropping from seven stories instead of just two.” Surprise flickered across Derek’s face and he knew he was blushing again when he mumbled an explanation. “My best friend worked at a vet’s office for years. I picked up a few things.”

He tried to play it off with a careless half shrug but his true animal nerd was showing through. Might as well have invited Derek back to the dorm to peruse his collection of nature documentaries.

Stiles was really not prepared for the way that GQ model face softened into an expression so warm that it did horribly unfair things to his heart rate. If he didn't bite the inside of his cheek then he might have done something ill-advised, like actually swoon when Derek slipped off his duffel bag and approached the tree without another word.

“You don't need-”

“Shut up, Stiles. Clearly this is important to you and I’m fine with heights.”

Derek made it look easy with how gracefully he swung into the branches of the tall cottonwood. It was kind of beautiful to watch that athletic body move so Stiles allowed himself a minute to drool over all that strength and coordination. When he reached the high branch with its fluffy captive, the kitten backed up a couple steps, wary of the new person despite the circumstances. His heart absolutely melted when Derek reached out tentatively and cooed at the scared animal until she felt safe enough to approach.

By the time he had the cat tucked under one arm and they were both safely back on the ground, Stiles was officially in love and so was the cat if the tremendous purrs were any indication. Derek tried to hand her over but first he had to peel tiny claws out of the fabric of his shirt (yeah, he wouldn’t wanna let go either). He gave the kitten a quick nuzzle and murmured something that sounded suspiciously like ‘good luck’ before giving her to Stiles.

“I resent that!” he protested as he tucked the ball of fluff against his chest, going right for the magic under the chin spot that made most kitties melt. “Winifred doesn’t need luck, I’ll be an _awesome_ cat dad.”

The snort of laughter was unintentional but Derek couldn’t completely wipe the skeptical grin off his face when he questioned, “Winifred?”

“As in Sanderson? Because she’s trouble, overly ambitious and her evil plans don’t work out.” Stiles dared to move his hand but possessive black paws wrapped around his wrist and dug in, demanding further chin rubs. “Just look at her. She already thinks she’s running this show.” From the way he practically cooed, it was obviously true.

He was so focused on the heart-crushingly adorable kitten that he didn’t realize Derek had stepped closer until he joined in the Winnie lovings, using two fingers to rub between her tiny silken ears. Stiles was distracted by the muscular chest brushing his shoulder and wondering if it would be weird to ask what cologne he was wearing because man, was it good shit, and he almost missed the next thing Derek said.

“Do you live in the dorms?” he asked from way too close. Really, how was Stiles supposed to focus? “You know you can’t keep pets there.”

Shrugging off that bit of bothersome school policy, Stiles pointed out reasonably, “All the noise and mess in the dorms, who’s gonna notice one little cat? I’m sure my roommate will be super cool and help me hide her. We just gotta survive ‘til the holidays, then I can take her home with me. Can’t let my dad get spoiled by the peace and quiet of not having me in the house.”

He loved the way Derek fell apart at that, a flash of brilliance on the heels of surprise, like he wasn’t expecting to laugh and Stiles kept pulling it out of him. “Seems like you’ve got it all figured out.”

“My plans usually go a lot better than you saw today.” Those expressive brows clearly said he was unconvinced so Stiles decided to throw his latest hastily-formed plot into action. “But what all that means is this sweet baby monster,” and he was not above waving one of her tiny paws enticingly at Derek, “will be gone in few weeks.”

Gathering his courage, Stiles forced himself to put on a smile that looked way more confident than he felt in order to meet stunning eyes that were flecked with gold in this light. “So if you wanna visit WInnie before she goes, I’m in Stevenson Hall. 214. Door’s always open for personal heroes.”

It took willpower not to squirm under the considering gaze that swept over him as Derek took in the offer they both knew had nothing to do with the kitten purring against his chest. He might not have taken a breath until the out of his league upperclassman replied, “Alright... I’ve got practice soon but maybe I’ll stop by after.”

“Cool. I’ll be there,” Stiles supplied unhelpfully as he tried to keep his grin in place. Derek gave one of those articulate eyebrow arches in lieu of a goodbye, then grabbed his duffel and headed off towards the athletic department. He was thrown by that mercurial yes-but-maybe response but he wouldn’t have even gotten that much if Derek wasn’t interested in him, right? Or maybe he just liked cats and was willing to endure Stiles’ awkward flirting to play with Winnie.

As it turned out, Derek really was a cat person. He showed up a few hours later carrying a bulging bag full of treats and toys to spoil her with, before offering to drive them to the vet tomorrow for a wellness check.

Luckily, Derek also really liked Stiles. He kept showing up even after their fluffy excuse for seeing each other so often became a resident of the Stilinski family home. At least for the next year, then she was brought back upstate to have the run of their off-campus apartment and Stiles got to live in the bliss of having 24/7 access to cat _and_ boyfriend snuggles.


End file.
